


Your Friend Tom

by PacketofRedApples



Category: Alan Wake (Video Game), Control (Video Game)
Genre: AWE spoilers, Canon Dialogue, Drabble, Fan Theory turned into a drabble, Fleshed out Scene, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26155207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PacketofRedApples/pseuds/PacketofRedApples
Summary: Something's off about this "Tom Zane" and Alan's too out of it to name it.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Your Friend Tom

**Author's Note:**

> If I'm wrong about this, I will delete it. But this is just some thoughts that I can't express coherently in an explanation.

“Who are you? Do I know you?” It’s a nightmare, really. His memory stretches, and comes back, he forgets then remembers. It’s been so long here. He doesn’t know how long, but it feels like an eternity. Time never stops, but it’s moving here at an odd pace. He can’t make out if it’s been years, if so-- how many years, or it’s just been days. He feels his hair, growing longer, but doesn’t know if that’s a steady indication. Just how long has it been…?

“I’m your friend Tom. Tom Zane.” The other man says, something oddly familiar about him, but not familiar enough to name. He looks different, but—he isn’t sure if that’s really supposed to mean anything. The way he presents, it almost means something to him. Like he’s supposed to recognize that face….except he doesn’t. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Tom? The poet? The diver?” He says, something telling him this rather than him understanding it. “You look different.” He hits the nail on the head, coming forward with what he thinks. But it helps him none.

“That was just a… a role, a character. The protagonist I played in my old film.” Zane replies as they continue to keep their distance from one another. Just enough for Alan to almost buy it. To believe it. “I’m a film maker, an auteur like yourself.” He continues and Wake can’t stop but wonder if this is really his voice. It sounded so odd, so different. The writer can’t believe it; thinking to himself—is this really how Thomas sounds without the diver suit, without the amplifier of the light? Is this really his voice? It… doesn’t seem right, but he can’t argue with it. “We’re working on this together, remember? An artistic collaboration.”

Wake steps away, faces away and tries to grasp what is being said, a sense of disbelief hovering over him.

“You need a drink.” Zane says as if it’s a solution, then walks over to pour one. Returns moments or decades later, offering the glass to the writer. Alan isn’t sure when he took the glass, but it’s in his hand, he looks it over. “Kippis!” Thomas—Tom… he cheers. Alan recognizes the old thing, but doesn’t comment, it feels so out of place.

Tom downs the glass in one go like it’s nothing, and Wake watches, then follows in taking a sip. It has been so long since he drank, he coughs, feeling the burn. Just how long is so long?

Endless darkness, nothing holds still.

“But we’re very close now. You’ve been writing.” Zane proceeds. “We found a way to escape. It will work this time.” There’s something that sounds off about it. The once champion of light cannot believe it. No, no… It reminds him of something else. But he keeps quiet about it.

“Writing?” Wake’s panic sets in.

“You found a way.” But his ‘friend’ is so sure.

“No.” Alan’s protest is so futile. “I--, I--, I don’t…” He wants to say something, to counter it, but he’s been stalling this process. And a thought comes to him, something he has to look out for. “Wait. There’s… something…” Wrong. “It’s my double!” He wants to say more, form more coherent thoughts. Zane looks down like it’s pathetic like they’ve been through this a hundred times at least. “He’s out there. I’ve seen him.”

“Yeah, yeah. Nothing to worry about.” Zane paces. “I’m dealing with him.” A horror settles in Wake’s stomach, this can’t be—no. “It's fine, my friend, let me handle him.”

“You’ve met him?” He says, but there’s a feeling of forgetfulness. Like something had happened at the start that would make him realize. “What the hell?” He yells, throwing the glass to the floor. It shatters upon impact, spilling the remainder of the drink on the floor.

“Now, now, come on! You… you misunderstand me.” Zane insists.

But Alan knows something deep down. This isn’t Zane, is it? It’s something else toying with him. And he’s sure that nameless bastard is hiding behind this— But then again… it’s him, isn’t it?


End file.
